October
by Astellya
Summary: When an anniversary rolls around, Nate is tempted by alcohol. Nate/Sophie. Oneshot.


**A/N: **_Well, I have no idea where this came from. It just kind of typed itself… This is a oneshot I thought up early in the morning while I was making my tea. Anyways, send me a review and tell me what you think._

**Summary: **Nate gives in to the alcohol after an anniversary rolls around. Sophie/Nate.

October

Nathan Ford hated October. When it rolled around, it was all he could do not to scream. On the fifteenth, Nate made sure that the team was busy. He sent them out to do useless things like steal something stupid from someone even more stupid. And so he sat in his home, alone. He silently watched some news channel, not really focusing. His eyes glazed over while the weather passed over the screen.  
Nate sat waiting for the day to end. He really, _really_ hated this day. And it was everything he could do to keep from drinking. Around noon, Maggie called. She was crying. He cried with her. She finally left, telling him that she still loved him sometimes. He laughed. She laughed. They said their farewells and he hung up.  
After his seventh cup of coffee, Nate was pacing. Today was the worst day. No. Not the worst. The second worst. And so Nate struggled silently. By seven, he couldn't stand it anymore. He took the stairs, very slowly, down to the bar. He sat at the bar very carefully. The bartender walked over to him and asked what he wanted. "Gimme a shot of whiskey," he said.  
The whiskey came and Nate stared at it. He watched it sit in the glass and he craved the burning sensation the whiskey would bring. He wanted the smooth calm that came over him when he drank. He wanted to forget more than anything. And he watched the whiskey intently. The whiskey was the answer. It would make him forget. It would make him get through the day. It wouldn't make things better in the long run, though.  
Nate wrapped his fingers around the whiskey and stared into the small glass. He could smell the alcohol and it burned his nostrils. His control slowly deteriorated as he remembered why he drank. The picked up the glass and raised it to his lips. He felt the alcohol touch his lips and he instinctively took a sip. The alcohol burned his throat as the first sip he'd had in six months gently slid down his mouth. He finished the whiskey, drinking very slowly. He motioned for a refill against all his principles.  
The new whiskey came and that whiskey was gone faster than the first. The third was gone even faster. Nate bought two bottles from the bar and went back upstairs. He was a bit unsteady as he ascended the stairs but he made it up without stumbling. He opened his door and sat on his bar. He pulled an empty mug closer to him and opened the first bottle. He splashed whiskey into his mug and drank it quickly. He proceeded to drink the whole bottle.  
By the second, Nate was completely smashed. But the alcohol had done the trick. He forgot. After he poured his second helping from the new bottle, he heard the door open. He ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. He heard several footsteps and a gasp. A feminine gasp. "Nate! What are you doing?" Damn. It was Sophie.  
"Drinking," Nate said hoarsely.  
"I-I can't believe you..."  
"Go away," Nate ordered, his back turned to her.  
"Nate, why?" Sophie again.  
"I just wanted to forget again." His answer was met by silence. He took another sip of whiskey. Sophie appeared in his line of sight and snatched the mostly full bottle of whiskey. "I was drinking that," Nate told her angrily.  
"Exactly." She walked over to the sink and started to dump the alcohol down the drain.  
"Hey! Hey!" Nate stood up and attempted to stop her. He didn't get very far before he stumbled over his own feet. Sophie caught him before he fell.  
"Nate..." Sophie wanted to say more but found she couldn't. She simply held him steady so he wouldn't fall.  
"Leave me alone," his words slurred. "I just want to drink." She didn't say anything as she watched Nate try to "rescue" his whiskey. He took the now empty bottle and angrily threw it at the floor. It shattered, sending shards of glass all over the floor. Silence followed this outburst. He cried out in outrage after a moment. He sunk to the floor and Sophie cautiously approached him.  
"What happened?" she asked softly. She sat next to him and waited for his answer.  
"It's the fifteenth," he whispered so softly that she thought she might have imagined it.  
"And?"  
"It's Sam's-It's Sam's... birthday today..."  
"Oh, Nate...  
"How old would he be?" Sophie asked hesitantly, but Nate smiled wistfully.  
"Fourteen... He would be fourteen today. He would be starting high school next year. A freshman..." He trailed off.  
"I'm sure he'd have the ladies falling over themselves to talk to him."  
Nate looked at Sophie and grinned. "Yeah... I'm sure he would." He stared at the half-filled mug on the counter, eyes glazed over.  
Sophie quickly grabbed the mug and poured the rest of the whiskey down the drain. He watched the last of his alcohol slide down the drain. "You don't need anymore..." Sophie told him as a way of an explanation.  
"I guess you're right." He laughed humorlessly. "You're always right, Sophie. I shouldn't be drinking. It's just... It's just so hard. Sam meant the world to me. You have no idea... Losing a child is like losing a piece of your soul. It's like losing the sunlight. I had it back... I had everything straightened out... And then October came. I just couldn't do it anymore. Drinking allows me to forget. And sometimes I don't want to remember..."  
Sophie didn't know how to reply. She simply sat next to him, offering her silent support. He leaned his head back against the cabinets and took several deep breaths. "I really, really miss him, Sophie," he said after a few moments of silence.  
"I know."  
"You're not angry?" he asked, noting that her voice was calm.  
"I am. But being angry won't make it better."  
Nate laughed softly again. "No. It wouldn't." Silence echoed throughout the apartment before he spoke again. "Maggie called."  
"How was she?" she was genuinely concerned.  
"She was... okay. Not good. Not bad. She was upset. She was crying..."  
Sophie didn't know what to say to this. She took his hand to comfort him and he leaned into her slightly.  
"I cried too. Sam... Sam was the best thing that ever happened to me. I remember the first time I held him. He was so small and weak. I told him I would protect him. I promised to always be there for him, Sophie. I taught him to walk. I watched as he grew up and then it was all taken away with one horrible disease..."  
She sat silently, not willing to interrupt his monologue. "When I heard the diagnosis, I did everything I could to save him. We may have saved him if we had had more money. If I had manned up and stolen one of the countless paintings I had access to."  
"Theft doesn't make you a man, Nate," Sophie told him forcefully.  
"No, but protecting your family does."  
"There was nothing you could do. It wasn't your fault."  
"How do you know that? Maybe if I had been a better father I would have noticed that he was sick sooner. Maybe if I stopped chasing _thieves,_" he spit the word out violently, "I would have been there to see the signs."  
"You were doing your job! You were providing for your family so that Sam could have a good life! I'm sure that if I had a father half the man you are I would never have become a thief!" Sophie's voice rose as she argued with Nate.  
"That says nothing about me and everything about your father. Just means he was a bigger bastard than me."  
"You're not a bastard. You're only a bastard when you get drunk so you forget about the past."  
Nate laughed loudly. "Like I said, I'm a bigger bastard sober than I am drunk."  
"You're going to stop this now, Nate," she told him.  
"No. I probably won't. I'm an alcoholic, Sophie. I'm always going to fall back on alcohol when times get tough. I won't make it through a year sober. I remember too much of the bad and not enough of the good."  
"Then forget about the bad! Stop thinking of the death of your son and think about his life."  
"Easier said than done. I will never forget those last weeks. I will never forget the first drink I took, the one that started this habit. I won't forget Maggie telling me that she couldn't stay with me if I continued to act like this. I won't forget the second my son died... I won't forget holding his lifeless body as the doctors said there was nothing left they could do. That he was gone."  
"Nate..."  
"You don't understand, Sophie. And I hope you never do. Losing a child is the most painful thing that has ever happened to me. And I've had a lot of horrible things happen." He turned to look at her finally. "I don't want to remember him and that hurts more than anything else. It feels wrong that I don't want to remember my son."  
Sophie was speechless. Nate had never talked to her about Sam this much before. She doubted that he had ever talked this much to anyone.  
"That's why I drink, Sophie. I drink so I can forget that I want to forget."  
"You don't have to do this," she begged.  
"I know. I just... I'm an addict, Sophie. I live over a bar for God's sake. I can't control myself." He stood up shakily. "I'm going to bed. You can stay or you can leave, I don't care."  
"I'm staying," she said determinedly. "Someone has to make sure you don't get yourself into more trouble."  
Nate gave her a half smile. "Well, come on up, then." He led the way up the spiral staircase and into his bedroom. He flopped onto his bed, moving so she could lie next to him. When he saw her hesitate he spoke. "I'm too drunk to try anything, Sophie."  
So she lay next to him, facing him. After a moment of stillness he began speaking again. "I really miss him," he said it tearfully. He cried softly and Sophie pulled him into a gentle hug. After fifteen minutes, his breathing evened out and Nate was sleeping peacefully.  
Sophie lay awake beside him, thinking about everything he had said. Nate was in terrible shape, but she knew that when tomorrow came he would go back to being sober. She had, for the lack of a better word, faith in him. She knew that he would go back to being strong, sober Nate. But tonight she had glimpsed the broken Nate that hid underneath drunk bastard Nate.  
It brought tears to her eyes to know that the man she loved hurt so much. And the fact that there was nothing she could do to help made her cry softly next to him. He deserved better than this Hell he was living in. He deserved to be happy. And he had been, once upon a time.  
But for now Nate slept, passed out from too much whiskey. He was completely unaware that the woman who loved him cried for his broken soul next to him. He was dreaming. And in his dreams his son was fourteen and arguing with him about curfews and girls and cars and grades.  
Life wasn't like that, though. In his real life his son was gone. Dead. Taken by cancer. And when his son was taken, Nate lost his reason for living. His reason for being sober. His reason for not being a bastard like his father was. His reason for making the world a better place.  
But life went on, no matter what happened. Tomorrow Nate would awaken, sober. He would stay that way for another month. And when Sam's date of death rolled around, there was no telling what would happen. But a lot could change in a month. Life is unpredictable that way.  
And when Nate finally awoke he saw Sophie lying next to him, sound asleep with dried tear tracks on her cheeks. She had stayed with him all night. She didn't leave him even though he had given her every reason to. He lightly touched her cheek and a ghost of a smile crossed his face. Today was going to be a better day. Nate was sure of that. Even if everything went wrong today at least he woke up feeling loved. And that was the one thing he could count on.

**A/N: **_Okay. That's all I have. Hope you enjoyed it. So, send me a review. You know you want to… _


End file.
